Something I never said
by QuiteRightPond
Summary: This is my first official full on Sherlock/Amy, Wholock fanfic, ever. So in this fanfic we have Amy after Rory dies. The Doctor drops Amy off at home because she just can't travel with him anymore. And well, Sherlock has "something to discuss with her".
1. A Goodbye and Hello

******Prologue ~ A goodbye and hello  
**

"You will be okay Amelia." The Doctor said kissing Amy's forehead.

Amy smiled at him sadly. He still called her Amelia, even after all these years and all they've been through. She is and always will be Amelia Pond, like the name in a fairy tale, to him.

"I don't know how I could be." Amy said wiping the tears away from her face. "He's gone Doctor and I just…" She let her sentence trail off. She didn't know how to live now, not without him.

"I'm sorry Amelia, I really tried, I really did." He sighed and let go of her. "I didn't make it in time."

Amy looked up at the Doctor, her Raggedy Doctor, her best friend. "I know." She whispered. "I know."

The Doctor looked back at the TARDIS. She stood on the corner of Amy's street, tall and blue, like always. He let go of a long breath.

"Time to go," he said sadly.

"Goodbye." Amy replied.

"I'll see you again."

"No you won't."

"I'm sorry Amelia."

"I know." She smiled. "Now go off and have your adventures with your blue box. And if you ever see that daughter of mine, tell her to visit her old mom sometime, okay?"

The Doctor's mouth thinned into a tight line, and Amy knew he was keeping something else from her. He had been for a while, since before Rory… She couldn't think of the word right now, it hurt too much.

"Goodbye Amelia Pond." The Doctor smiled his typical smile; the one that held so much underneath. So much that Amy would never know now.

He walked away, leaving Amy standing in front of her TARDIS blue door, alone in the chilly pre-winter night. She watched as the TARDIS dematerialized as soon as the Doctor went in.

The Doctor and his TARDIS, next stop: anywhere.

Not any more, not for Amy Pond.

Not for Rory either.

Amy let out another sob as she thought about her wonderful husband. His car parked in front of her didn't help either. She just expected him to walk out of the front door with a goofy smile on his face. A goofy smile that she would never see again.

Amy walked into her empty house, confronted by the life she had left behind. Pictures of Rory and Amy were scattered around the house; some had the Doctor in them, some had River, their daughter, in them. But they all had memories, ones that Amy didn't want to see right now.

She walked up to her bedroom in the dark. She flicked on the light and walked over to Rory's dresser. She pulled out one of his checked shirts and got undressed and then put it on, like she used to when he was…

She laid on the bed wrapped up in the blankets and his smell when she heard a noise downstairs. Instantly her heart leapt out of her chest.

___Rory_, she thought. ___He had made his way back for her._

Amy got up and slipped her feet into her slippers and pulled on her dressing gown. There was a loud groan from downstairs and Amy's face fell. That voice wasn't Rory's.

She flicked on her bedroom light and grabbed the closest thing in her reach, which just happened to be a bat. She couldn't remember who put the bat in the bedroom in the first place, but there was a good reason behind it, she was sure.

She reached the stairs and looked down.

"Who's there?" She called and then chastised herself. Of course they weren't going to answer that question.

Amy walked down carefully. "I have a bat and I'm angry, extremely angry, so don't push me." She said in her thick Scottish accent.

She reached the light and turned it on and gasped.

"What the…" She said.

"Hello Amelia, glad to see that you're back." Sherlock said getting up from the couch and walking towards her. "I have something to discuss with you."


	2. Discussions

**Chapter 1 ~ Discussions**

Sherlock watched Amelia as she pulled her dressing gown tighter around her. She must have been uncomfortable around him, which was odd, considering what happened.

_Or maybe it is because of what happened._

He shook the thought out of his head. John had been helping him understand human behaviour, but he could never quite understand Amelia, the impossible girl, the girl who once had his heart, and probably still had it.

"What do you need?" Amelia said jumping straight into it. He smirked; she was still his Amelia, no matter what had happened between them.

"Just somewhere to stay and some help." He said standing right in front of her. She looked up to him slightly; her chin raised more in defiance than need to look up. She was still angry then, he deduced.

"And you're not at Baker Street because?" Her eyebrows rose. She already knew the answer though. Why was she asking him?

"I'm still supposed to be dead." He said, dusting some imaginary dirt off his suit.

She muttered something that sounded like: "why couldn't you stay that way?" Yes, she was definitely still mad with him.

She took a deep breath in. "Fine." She said reluctantly. "But I'm not helping Sherlock. I'm not getting involved in anything. I just want to have a normal life."

"No you don't." He argued. "You've never wanted a normal life in your whole life Amelia."

"Things change, Sherlock." She snapped. She was close to tears and everything in him wanted to hold her, to wipe away the tears, but he couldn't anymore, that had been taken away from him when she married Rory.

"People don't." He had held to that his whole life. People didn't change, they remained constant. His stubborn Amelia was proof of that. She had never changed, not one bit, since he first met her.

She rubbed her eyes and sighed. She seemed to be doing that a lot, he must be annoying her.

"You can stay in the guest room." She refused to look at him. "You can stay as long as you want, I don't care anymore."

Sherlock was about to say something, but held his tongue. She was going through a rough time, he needed to accommodate that. He needed to not make her life any harder than what he already did.

She turned away from him and he stopped her. "Amelia," he said softly as she turned back to look at him. "Thank you."

If she was surprised at hearing those words come out of his mouth, she hid it well.

"John must have been a good influence on you." She said, crossing her arms over her chest.

She turned and walked back up her stairs. Sherlock sighed. She seemed so different now, no she hadn't changed, but she seemed tense and uneasy around him. Could it be because of the death of her husband? Sherlock was there, at the funeral, he had to be there for her, she was _his _Amelia, no matter what she said. She didn't know he was there and she probably never would.

It was at that same time that he saw John for the last time. The memory still burned bright in his mind; John's hand on Sherlock's gravestone, his muttered words about his 'dead' friend, and then after, as he was walking away, John bumped into Amelia and the Doctor, and that's when Sherlock knew what he had to do.

Sherlock walked upstairs, passing Amelia's room. He held his ear close to the pale cream door; soft sobbing came from inside. His Amelia was crying. He almost knocked on the door and walked in to comfort her, and then he remembered that it wasn't his job anymore. With his head hung, he walked across the hall to the guest bedroom. He walked in and closed the door softly behind him.

He took off his coat and scarf and draped them over the lounge chair that was sitting in the corner. He undid and slid off his shoes, and then his shirt and then his pants. Someone had laid out fresh pyjamas on the bed. He smiled, knowing that even if she didn't like him, she was still looking after him. He pulled them on, noting the distinct smell of clean laundry.

He stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Someone, probably Amelia had decorated the roof with glow-in-the-dark stars. This was probably River's room when she came to visit. Sherlock wondered if she and Rory ever considered having another kid; probably not.

Sherlock turned onto his side and stared out of the open window, contemplating the case he was trying to solve. He had never had this much trouble, but this one was different, which was why he needed Amelia's and the Doctor's help. If the Doctor was really an alien then he could prove very useful to Sherlock, he just needed to find him first and the best way to find the Doctor is through Amelia, everyone knows that. And Sherlock was going to use it to his advantage.

_The first thing Amy noticed when she opened her eyes were the lights, too bright and hot, on her skin. She couldn't see past these lights. There were no shapes and no colours, just white. Her panicked mind wondered if she was back at Demon's Run, if Madame Kovarian had gotten her again. That was what Amy always thought when she saw the lights. But she knew she was dreaming. She knew because of the ankle and wrist straps that were holding her to the hard, steel table. She knew because this was the moment that changed her life forever._

_Rory ran up to her. "Amy," he smiled, holding her face in his hands. "We've found you. Doctor! She's over here!"_

_Amy couldn't register what was going on. There was something clouding her mind, but she knew, as soon as she saw Rory, her Rory, that she was safe. She pulled at the binds that were holding her._

"_Rory, I can't get out." She said._

_Rory looked down and uselessly pulled at the straps. "Wait here." He ordered._

"_Right, yeah, because I'm going to go to the moon while you're gone." She retorted in her thick Scottish accent._

_Rory chuckled and kissed her softly and briefly, much too briefly. "I'll be right back." He smiled._

"_You better."_

_She watched as Rory disappeared around a corner, she started counting in her head._

_When a few minutes had passed, the Doctor's head appeared around the same corner Rory went._

"_Amy! Good! You're alive!" He beamed walking towards her._

"_Where's Rory?" She asked looking behind him to see if he was there._

"_I don't know." The Doctor turned around and scratched his head. "He was right behind me."_

"_Well come on, get me out and we can go look for him." Amy rattled the straps._

"_Right, yes, geronimo!"_

_He smiled and pointed his sonic screwdriver at the straps. Once she was out, Amy rubbed at her wrists._

"'_Let's go to an alien planet' he says. 'The skies are orange and the ground is bouncy' he says. 'Nothing can go wrong'." Amy muttered. "Come on Doctor, let's go find my husband." She walked towards the corner._

_Walking around the corner, Amy froze. _It couldn't be_, she thought. _But it was_._

"_Doctor?" She called, not taking her eyes off the thing in front of her. "Doctor!"_

"_What – oh." The Doctor stared at the angel. "Don't blink Amelia."_

"_I'm not blinking." She said sharply. "Where's Rory?"_

"_I'm not sure." He took a step towards the statue._

"_Don't do that!" She hissed._

"_Relax Amy, as long as you're looking at it, I'm fine." He turned and smiled at her and then inspected the statue. "Hmm," he hummed. "It hasn't gotten us yet, why hasn't it gotten us yet? The whole time we were in that room it could have gotten – oh aren't you beautiful!"_

"_Is now really the time?" Amy rolled her eyes internally._

"_Now is definitely the time. Amy, look!" He spun around holding a control._

"_Am I supposed to know what that is?" She asked, raising an eyebrow._

"_It's a remote control!" He said excitedly._

"_And…"_

"_It's not a real angel! It's a robot! Wow this is exciting! Who would want to create a robot replica of a Weeping Angel?" He chucked the remote away and waved his sonic screwdriver at the angel/robot._

"_But Doctor didn't you say…" Amy started, taking her eyes off the robot/angel._

"_That which holds the image of an angel becomes, itself, an angel." The Doctor said in a low voice, slowly looking up from his screwdriver. "Amy, where's Rory?"_

"_I don't know. That's what I've been asking _you _this whole time." She put her hands on her hips._

"_Amy we have to get back to the TARDIS."_

"_What?"_

"_Now, Amy! Run!"_

_The Doctor pulled her hand and led her in the opposite way of the angel and towards the TARDIS._

"_Doctor, Doctor where's Rory?" She yelled at him._

_He didn't answer; instead he pulled her resisting self into the TARDIS and locked the doors behind them._

"_Doctor!" She shouted, "Where is he? Where is Rory?"_

_He still didn't answer. He jumped up to the console and pulled some levers. He brought the screen around to face him and Amy ran up to see what was on the screen. Outside lay her husband's body, bloodied and broken. She ran back to the door and slammed on it, trying to get it to open._

"_No!" She sobbed, "No, Rory! Doctor please, Doctor we have to save him! Please Doctor!"_

_The Doctor said nothing and pulled more levers, pretty soon the sound of the TARDIS in flight filled Amy's ears. She ran up to the console and tried to push him away._

"_No, Doctor, you can't leave him, you _can't_!" She cried trying to get him away from the controls._

_He just held onto her tightly. "Amy, I'm so sorry, there's nothing we can do."_

_Amy held onto him and cried._

She woke up in a tangle of sheets. Her hair plastered to her face. Her breathing ragged as sobs travelled their way through her chest. She remembered that she had a guest and she tried to stop crying. This dream had been happening every day since he died. Amy had woken up inside the TARDIS more than once to a very concerned Doctor watching her intently.

Amy turned onto her side and sniffled. These dreams were getting worse and worse. Every time she closed her eyes she was assaulted by those images. She was slowly getting less and less sleep. But the dreams didn't stop her body from feeling tired. They didn't stop her eyelids from falling shut. They didn't stop her from being pulled once again into a deep state of unconsciousness, where the dreams lurked in the shadows and waited to begin again.


	3. Discoveries

Well, hello, because I see people doing this all the time, I feel like I need to do it xD

There's not much going on here and um yeah, just some discoveries. God, I'm really bad at this.

***Disclaimer* None, I repeat, _none, _of these characters belong to me. It's just a little fun to get the stories out of my head. These characters belong to their rightful owners and whatnot. As I said, it's all fun. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 2 ~ Discoveries**

Living with Sherlock was turning out to be easier than Amy had expected. He was hardly there, and when he was, he locked himself up in his room and didn't talk. He hardly ever ate, so Amy didn't really have to cook for him, and at least he didn't annoyingly play the violin anymore. She actually found his violin playing soothing. He played it as she went to sleep every night. Part of her mind wondered if he was doing it on purpose. The other part, more reasonable part, told her that she was being silly, that the Sherlock she once knew, and cared for, was gone.

One day she knocked on Sherlock's door.

"Sherlock?" She called. He wasn't here, she already knew that. But she couldn't help herself. Whatever this case was, it had him interested.

She pushed open the door and gasped. There were maps and pictures and bits of coloured string everywhere. She walked carefully over to the biggest map, which took up the whole back wall of the room. There were pictures of young women attached to it with tacks tied to red string. She stood back and looked at it. It seemed like the dots connected to create a bigger picture, she couldn't put her finger on it though.

"Like it?" A voice said behind her.

Amy jumped and spun around. "It's a mess." She complained while her heartbeat calmed down.

"It's organized."

"To whose standards?"

He looked at her and then behind her to the map. "I can't figure it out. I've been looking at this map for days, connecting the dots, but I'm missing something." He let out a long sigh. "Whatever this is, Amelia, it's not human." He stated in a low voice.

"What do you want me to do about it?" She asked, turning to look at the map as well.

"The Doctor," he started.

Amy shook her head. "I can't call him, Sherlock. He won't answer me."

"He always answers you."

"Not anymore."

Those two words held so much pain. Her beloved Doctor. The man she had loved since she was seven years old. Dropping her home and ignoring her as if all they did was share a cab. It wasn't his fault. She had said that she didn't want anything else to do with him or that life. Not after everything that happened.

"Amelia," Sherlock started.

"Don't. I'm fine." She smiled at him and then turned her focus back to the map. "You're missing a location."

"Everything's there." He defended.

She shook her head. "No, Sherlock, there's a location missing, the lines are spelling something."

Amy went to get her sketchbook and came back. She sat on the floor and sketched out the lines onto the piece of paper. Sherlock looked over her shoulder, transfixed, as he usually is when it came to her. The lines appeared smoothly, he didn't know how he hadn't seen it before. It was all so obvious now.

Amy gasped. She hadn't wanted to see this word come out of the mess of lines. But she knew where the last location was. She grabbed a tack and tied a loose end of string onto it and placed it on the map.

"I figured it out." She whispered.

"Amelia, but that's…"

"I know."

They both stared at the map. The last tack placed directly on Amy's address. The lines on the map spelling out a very simple word that once meant everything to her.

_Gotcha._


	4. Times Fly

Hey guys, you sick of me yet? Haha. Well, I'm back, with a new chapter. I sort of left it hanging a bit at the end in the last one, I can promise that it will all make sense in time.

Well, this is a little fluffier, but not as fluffy as the next one is going to be *excited*. I wrote it after a concert I went to for Lisa Mitchell (she's great, one of my favourite Australian indie artists, y'all should check out her song _Neapolitan Dreams _because it's an awesome song and it sort of fits). The title came from _Times Fly_ by _Georgia Fair _who were the supporting group for Lisa. And I think that that's all for now :) So remember folks: rate, review, subscribe because I love it :)

***Disclaimer***** None, I repeat, _none, _of these characters belong to me. It's just a little fun to get the stories out of my head. These characters belong to their rightful owners and whatnot. As I said, it's all fun. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 3 ~ Times Fly**

Amy tried to avoid Sherlock as much as she could after their discovery. She only went out for groceries and essentials, but the whole time looking over her shoulder, making sure that she was fine, that she was safe. Sherlock would have scoffed at that word, 'safe', no one is ever safe, especially when they might have an alien hell-bent on destroying her friend, the Doctor, on their trail.

After that discovery, Sherlock had filled her in.

"There have been a number of cases around the UK, of girls going missing." He had said. "They've usually gone missing from populated areas like shops and parks and work. Witnesses have described it as "they were there one minute and then gone the next"." He read from the file in his hand.

"How many girls?" Amy asked.

"As many as you saw on the map, maybe more."

Amy felt sick. All these girls missing, gone god only knows where, and some of them might not have even been reported. Who would do something like that?

"Amelia, this is getting worse, if you were right about the… Location, then you're next, you need to be careful."

Amy looked up to his face. He looked concerned, but he couldn't, he was Sherlock, he didn't show emotions.

"I'll be fine." She said stubbornly.

Since then she had hardly talked to Sherlock, choosing, instead, to busy herself with mundane tasks that she knew Sherlock wouldn't like.

Of course, she knew in the back of her mind that it couldn't go on like this forever.

"Two weeks." Sherlock said as she walked into the door after getting some apples from the market.

"Two weeks?" She repeated, setting the bag down on the kitchen counter.

"We have been waiting for two weeks, but nothing has happened." She walked in after her and grabbed an apple. "Maybe you were wrong. The location pinpointed your house, but it isn't busy around here at all."

Amy felt her temperature start to rise. Of course it was her who had to be wrong, never him. There was a knock at the door, interrupting her short fit of anger. Amy went to go get it, Sherlock following close behind, but staying out of view. She opened the door to a man handing out flyers.

"Good evening mam." He greeted. Amy heard Sherlock silently scoff from behind the door. She opened it further and hit him with it while smiling at the young man in front of her. "I'm here to inform you about the festivities that are taking place this weekend." He handed her a flyer and Amy looked at it, her blood ran cold. "They say it's going to be _huge_, heaps of people around, the whole thing." The man had a huge smile on his face and Amy tried hard to return that smile.

"Thank you." She said and closed the door.

Sherlock immediately grabbed the flyer out of her hands and looked at it. Amy could have sworn that he went pale for a second before he composed himself again.

"Sherlock," Amy said.

"Stay in the house, don't go out of the house." He ordered. "Don't let anyone in, anyone at all, even if you know them."

He grabbed his scarf and his coat.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"I still have some friends who know I'm not dead, you need to be protected." He started towards the back door.

Amy looked after him. "Sherlock, I'm scared." She admitted, hating herself immediately afterwards.

Sherlock had her in his arms in two long steps. He smoothed her hair and she wrapped her arms around him, feeling safe straight away. She sighed, she had missed this.

"I'll protect you, Amelia, no matter what, you _will_ be safe."

Amy nodded and all too soon Sherlock had let go of her and gone out the backdoor into the dying sunlight.

When Amy slept that night, she didn't dream her normal dream. No, this time it was different. Instead of being tormented by her usual terrors, she found herself surrounded by sunlight and rolling hills filled with tall green grass. She didn't feel scared in this dream, instead she felt safe, like she had once felt with the Doctor, with Rory, and with Sherlock.

Awake Amy would never admit to having any sort of feelings towards Sherlock these days unless they were of annoyance or something along those lines. Asleep Amy was with Sherlock in a field, surrounded by butterflies and flowers. They were lying side by side on his coat. Their fingers intertwined as they said nothing, just lay there and stared at the sky and the clouds drifting lazily above them. Sherlock's thumb was making little circles on the back of her hand.

Amy had never felt more content in her whole life, more at peace, than when she was laying with Sherlock. They didn't even have to speak. She realised something deep within herself that she fought to supress so many years ago. She realised that she didn't need anything else; she just needed this, Sherlock next to her, his breathing matching her own, their hands the only thing that was touching. She realised how much she had missed this feeling, how much she had missed Sherlock.

Amy woke up the next morning, more rested than she had been in months. But at the same time there was a distinct ache in her chest, like she was missing something. She didn't remember her dream from the night before, or her realisation inside the dream, all she knew was that she didn't have her normal nightmare.

Sherlock was still nowhere to be found the next day, Amy shrugged it off and went about cleaning the house, but she felt the lack of his presence more than ever. Nonetheless, as per his instructions, she didn't let anyone in her house. She didn't answer the door or the phone. She essentially became a ghost.

They were starting to set up for the fair and Sherlock watched from a distance, looking for anyone who seemed out of sorts. There was no one though, no one of interest anyway. He played with the notion of going back to Amelia, but he was waiting for something first, a sign to say all was okay.

The sign came at exactly 5:08pm, Sherlock nodded at the woman who gave it to him. Upon receiving the sign he went back to Amelia straight away. She was upstairs in the shower, he noted as he slipped in through the back door and up to his room. He listened to her soft singing, smiling to himself as he remembered the way she used to sing to him when she was younger, when she was just a weird girl who dreamt of impossible things. She still did.

Sherlock got changed into the clothes that she must have left for him on the bed. He heard the door to the bathroom open and he went out to announce his return to Amelia. As he ventured out into the hallway, the first thing he was greeted with was a very angry, and naked, Amelia. Sherlock straight away turned his back, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"I'm back." He said after he cleared his throat.

"Yes, I know." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"You're naked." He blushed harder.

"Excellent observation."

He heard her footsteps hesitate, almost as if she were going to come closer to him, but then they went back to her room. A tiny squeak as her door opened and then closed. Sherlock let go of the breath he had been holding, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the image of her, dripping wet, out of his mind. John had been wrong, everyone had been wrong. Sherlock wasn't a robot, incapable of feeling, he just hadn't met anyone who posed as much of a mystery as his impossible Amelia Pond. He went back into his room and played the violin, trying to get his mind off of the girl who had definitely grown up into a woman.


	5. Blind

Ohmygod guys look! It's a new update! Because I'm feeling good about the new Muse song (don't judge me, they're awesome and the reason that I breathe (jk I'm not _that_ obsessed... yet)) I'm going to post this because for some reason I hadn't done it yet, can't remember what the reason was... Oh well, ooyl. The title comes from the song _Blind_ by _Georgia Fair_ (you guys actually should check this song out because it fits my Sherlock/Amy headcannon perfectly. And that's all from me, yep :)

***Disclaimer***** None, I repeat, _none, _of these characters belong to me. It's just a little fun to get the stories out of my head. These characters belong to their rightful owners and whatnot. As I said, it's all fun. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 4 ~ Blind**

Sherlock was 13 years old when he met Amelia Pond for the first time. She was 7 years old and everyone else called her weird. It was only natural that they, the two people in the whole town who were different, became friends. If 'friends' was the right word.

Amelia would constantly talk of her raggedy Doctor, the man she knew was coming for her, because he promised. Sherlock let her believe this. He watched her grow up believing in this man, this higher power. Sherlock knew that people made up all sorts of things to deal with incidents in their lives. The loss of Amelia's parents must have triggered the need to believe in a higher power.

Two days before Amelia's 19th birthday, they got into a fight.

"I know he's real!" Amelia shouted at him. "He exists, Sherlock, you can't deny that!"

"He does not exist, Amelia!" Sherlock rarely raised his voice, but there was something about Amelia that made him so quick-tempered.

"You've met him!" She persisted. Sherlock wished that she would shut up.

"I have not met him." He took a deep breath in. "You're making up stories and memories to accommodate the loss of your parents." He rationalised. "That is all Amelia. That is all it ever has been. There is no such thing as 'The Doctor'."

Amelia went silent and Sherlock saw, in her eyes, he saw the hurt and the betrayal. He was the only person who indulged her, apart from Rory, but only because the boy had a crush on her. Unrequited, of course, Sherlock knew of Amelia's feelings towards himself. But he watched as those feelings, which were once warm and loving, turned to cold and denying.

"Get out."

When Amelia got mad, really mad, truly mad, her voice lowered, nearing more of a whisper. Her eyes, which were normally an open and inviting shade of green, turned dark and determined look. Sherlock knew that he had crossed a line, that there was no going back from this point.

But just because he knew, didn't mean he had to accept it.

"Amelia," he tried.

"No, Sherlock, I want you out, I want you gone, I don't want to see you anymore." She walked to the front door and opened it. "Get out."

Sherlock grabbed his coat and his scarf and put them on.

"Very well." He said walking past her.

He paused for a second in front of her before letting out a sigh and stepping into the cold winter air. The door closed roughly behind him, and Sherlock knew that it was over. That _they_ were over.

The box with the ring in his coat pocket burned through, reminding him that alone is what he has, alone protects him. He walked towards the taxi waiting for him in the centre of the town. He never saw Amelia Pond again.

A week later Sherlock was in London "assisting" the police with an investigation, although he was doing most of the work. There were weird messages on the phones and the TVs and the music players, everywhere. People started to panic when something happened to the sun. Not Sherlock though. And when it was all fixed, Sherlock's fingers itched to dial Amelia's number into his phone followed by a quick apology text. He didn't though. The ring still sat in its red velvet box, in the top shelf of his bedside table.

They never spoke again.

2 years later, Rory and Amelia got married.

They invited Sherlock to the wedding.

He didn't go.

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***Remember* Rate/review/subscribe and I'll give you internet huggles :D**


	6. City of Delusion

Aw, guys, look, an update! I'm sorry it took so long, but I was busier than I planned these holidays and I have non-stop rehearsals for the next couple of weeks leading up to my school's production of Alice in Wonderland! (Yes, I'm excited). I'll be really quick. I just want to say thank you for all of the reviews! They gave me warm fuzzy feelings in my stomach (aw). As always, I love reviews and I love the people who actually take time to read this, it makes me feel so special. So thank you, everyone :)

***Disclaimer***** None, I repeat, _none, _of these characters belong to me. It's just a little fun to get the stories out of my head. These characters belong to their rightful owners and whatnot. As I said, it's all fun. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 5 ~ City of Delusion**

The shouts and the screams of the children outside echoed through the empty hallways of the house. The lights were turned off. A book lay open on the ground, the pages flicking lazily with the breeze from the open window. They had just disappeared, no traces left behind. They were just… _gone_.

Amy's eyes blinked a couple of times in the darkness. She tried to think of what had just happened. One moment she was sitting in the lounge reading a book and listening to the sound of the fete outside. The next thing she knew, she was surrounded by darkness and in complete silence. The silence unnerved her, making her uncomfortable after the loud noise of a hundred people in the street outside her house. Amy Pond sat blinking in the darkness and wondered.

Sherlock opened his eyes, feeling the familiar feathery-ness of his pillows and doona at Amelia's house. Other than touch, there was nothing else. Sherlock was surrounded by the same thick, choking, dark silence that surrounded Amy. He began to worry.

The last thing Sherlock remembered was pacing in his room, listening to the sounds outside his open second storey window. And then nothing. No one had snuck up on him. No one had forced him anywhere. It was just as if he was in one place at one moment and then here the next. But what had happened?

Amy felt around her. She was on the ground; she felt familiar pieces of furniture around her. So she was still inside her house. But where had the lights gone?

She heard movement upstairs and all her defences went up. Her primal instinct to protect herself kicked in. It felt like all her senses were heightened just because she had lost her sight. Using her knowledge of her house, she made her way quietly to the stairs, where the intruder was coming down rather loudly, not bothering to hide the noise they were making.

Just as they reached the bottom, where Amy was hiding behind a wall, she reached out and pushed the intruder against the wall, using the element of surprise to her advantage. She held them there, obviously knocking the wing out of them, when a choked 'Amelia' came out of his mouth. Amy eased up her grip on his windpipe as soon as she realised who it was.

"Sherlock?" She said, obviously stunned. "I'm sorry, I thought…"

"I know exactly what you thought, Amelia." He replied rather brusquely. "The bruises I am sure to experience can attest to that."

"Sorry again, Mr Grumpy-pants." Amy said mock-seriously. She didn't need to be able to see to know the look he was giving her.

"Are you going to let me go?" Sherlock asked.

Amy blushed in the darkness, thankful that he couldn't see her. She had forgotten that she was still holding on to him and without her sight she was extremely aware of the closeness of their bodies.

"Right, sorry."

Amy let him go and heard him dusting off his suit. He let out a small sigh; he was probably annoyed with her for some reason.

"So," Amy said, pursing her lips and drawing out the 'o'. "Have you any idea where we are?"

"We're inside your house still." He said.

"I know that."

She could feel his eyes on her and Amy shrugged it off. She felt around on the wall behind her for the light switch she knew was there. Flicking it, she blinked at the sudden brightness.

When her eyes finally adjusted to the change of light, she looked around. Sure enough, they were standing inside her apartment. But the windows had been boarded up, from the inside, like they were keeping something out. Amy wondered what the hell was going on. She walked to the door but Sherlock stopped her from opening it.

"Something's wrong." He said, placing his hand over hers on the door handle.

Amy rolled her eyes. "Really now?" She said sarcastically.

He frowned at her and she arched her eyebrows at him. He sighed and she knew she had won.

"Fine, let me." Sherlock said, grabbing Amy by the waist and pulling her back.

Amy had no time to act annoyed. All she could think about was Sherlock's arm around her. The heat from his body was so close. She blushed and moved willingly, silently cursing at herself for being so weak.

Sherlock gave her a fleeting look. He saw her reaction, of course he did, how could anyone not? He didn't allow himself to hope though. Hope often led to disappointment. Alone is what he has. Alone protects him. Amelia Pond was not going to change that.

He twisted the door handle and took in a deep breath and opened the door.

Somewhere, far away, there was someone smiling, laughing, planning. He had the girl exactly where he wanted her. And no one could save her now. Sure a tall guy had come with her, but he was easy enough to get rid of. All he cared about was this girl.

He heard some muffled words behind him, and laughed.


	7. We'll make it out alright

Hey guys! Sorry this took so long school and production rehearsals took over my life. As much fun as I had with the production, I'm so glad that it's over xD Thank you all for the lovely reviews! I'm so glad that you all like it! As always: rate, review, subscribe. Thank you all again!

***Disclaimer***** None, I repeat, _none, _of these characters belong to me. It's just a little fun to get the stories out of my head. These characters belong to their rightful owners and whatnot. As I said, it's all fun. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 6 ~ We'll Make it Out Alright**

First Sherlock didn't know what to feel. He just stared. Outside the streets were empty, absolutely barren. There was rubbish thrown everywhere and some of the houses were in ruin. _What the hell was going on?_

The street lamps were just beginning to flicker on as the sun was going down. But even the sunset looked wrong.

"Sherlock?" Amelia said cautiously behind him, she still hadn't moved.

He turned around, closing the door behind him; he didn't want to alarm her.

"I want you to stay calm, Amelia." He said, walking up to her and grabbing her shoulders.

"I am calm." She said, but when she looked up at him he saw the fear in her eyes. "Why? What's going on? Sherlock, _please_."

"I'm going to fix everything, I promise." Sherlock said softly. He pulled Amelia into a hug and sighed happily when she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest. There were no words to describe how much he had missed the feeling of her against him, the smell of her shampoo. "Everything will be alright."

He kissed the top of her head. He was lying to her, and she knew it, but it made them both feel a little better.

"What do we do?" Amelia asked.

She was sitting on the couch, in the corner, with her legs brought up to her chest, held there by her hands. Her chin was resting on her knees and she was looking at him, her green eyes were sad. _She was scared_, he deduced. _She was frightened and felt alone; she probably needed a hot chocolate or something else sugary_. He sat down on the coffee table opposite her. In any other situation, she would have scolded him, and probably hit him, but now she just looked at him with those sad green eyes.

"I don't know." Sherlock admitted truthfully. "I don't know if there's anything we _can _do, Amelia."

Amelia nodded, obviously resigned to her fate, which was nothing like the Amelia Pond Sherlock knew. The girl with the name like a fairy tale, the impossible girl, the girl who has felt so much sadness in her life yet still soldiers on. That was the girl he fell in love with.

"I will fix this." He said, placing a hand on her knee. He didn't know how, and he didn't know when, but he would fix this; for her. It would always be for her. "I promise."

Amelia looked up. "You've promised me things before, Sherlock." She said. Sherlock frowned. How could she still be upset about that?

"Amelia, I _will_ make sure that you're safe, at all costs. You have my word."

Amelia looked at him and smiled. It was a short smile, but it was everything. It was the smile she used to give him.

"I believe you." She said softly.

Amy looked at the window above Sherlock's head. Well, she looked at the boards covering the window.

"Where is everyone?" She asked.

"I don't know." Sherlock answered looking around. "Maybe they've boarded themselves inside as well. Something's obviously happening, and we're still on Earth, I just don't think we're on _our_ Earth."

"Is there different Earths?" Amy asked, hugging her knees closer to her. The Doctor had once said something about parallel universes, but they were closed off, according to him. No one could access them.

"Depends what you want to believe in." Sherlock shrugged.

"Where your faith lays? Science or religion." She sighed.

"Exactly."

She sighed again. Faith was never good, it always led to trouble. She had learned that the hard way.

Sherlock moved next to her and pulled her into his arms. Amy gladly relaxed in his arms. Her head was resting over his heart and she listened to the calming rhythm. His hand smoothed her hair out of her face. She closed her eyes, tired after the mix of emotions that went through her so quickly. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head.

"Amelia, I…" He started.

She waited for the rest to come but there was a noise at the door.

"Hide." Sherlock ordered, jumping to his feet.

Amy did as he said, not bothering to argue, hiding behind the couch, making herself as small and invisible as possible. She felt like she was 9 years old again, and her and Sherlock were playing a game of hide-n-seek. He always knew where to find her though. Once he explained the process to her and she just shrugged her attention going elsewhere.

Sherlock walked carefully to the door. Someone was putting a key in the hole, which meant they lived here, they had a key. They turned the door handle and opened the door. Sherlock was ready, and he jumped out from behind the door, pushing it shut and holding the person against the wall. He blinked in surprise.

"What?" He said, his grip loosening.

"Sherlock?" Amy looked up at the familiar voice.

"Rory?" She said, walking around to the boys and almost collapsing. "Oh my god." She gasped, her hand covering her mouth. This was impossible.

"Amy?" He said.

Sherlock let him down and he took a step towards Amy, who flinched back.

"No, no, no." She said shaking her head. "It's impossible."

She looked at Sherlock to explain what was happening. He gave her a barely observable shrug. Rory looked in between the two and took a step back.

"Amy, are you two…?" He asked, pointing between Sherlock and Amy.

"No." She said quickly, Sherlock frowned. "We're not."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Rory and Amy looked at each for a moment, Amy still refusing to believe that he was _there._ She had a million questions running in her mind, the main one being: _how_, but she learnt to stop asking that a while ago.

Sherlock looked in between them, jealousy rising up in his stomach. He had no right to be jealous, Amelia wasn't even his, she was married to this boy. He saw the way they looked at each other, Amelia often looked at him like that. But right now, pure disbelief and distrust were written all over her face. And you didn't have to be the world's only consulting detective to see that.

"Amelia," Sherlock said. "Maybe you should sit down."

She nodded and did as he said, the whole party moving to the living room. Sherlock and Amelia sat on the couch, which left Rory to sit on one of the armchairs. He didn't look too pleased about this fact which brought a small smile to Sherlock's face. He could feel Amelia gripping his coat, as if his being there was the only thing she knew was real.

"How did you get here?" Sherlock asked, uninterested in anything Rory had to say, he was an idiot anyway.

"Same way as you, I suppose, only I died." Rory shrugged.

Amelia's sharp intake of breath was audible, her fingers held on tighter to Sherlock's coat. Rory looked at Amelia.

"Look, Amy, I understand why you and the Doctor didn't come back. I wouldn't have either." Rory said. "So, it's fine. I died, again, and I came back to life, again."

Amy looked at Rory. She didn't want him to be there then to be taken away again. She had nightmares about his death and she just didn't want to relive all of that all over again. But she was Amy and he was Rory and he was alive.

She ran into Rory's arms and they hugged. Sherlock watched with mild contempt. He was just about to look away when Rory smirked slyly at him. And Sherlock knew, at that moment, that this person was not who he said he was.


	8. Theories

Hey! I'm sorry this took so long and it's not even a good chapter, well in my opinion anyway. So um here you have a little bit more of our favourite assbutt and Amy. You also get to see a little bit more of Amy's thoughts and such as the whole chapter is done in Amy's POV but third person. There's some mature scenes in here and some references so... Please keep this in mind. :)

As always THANK YOU for the reviews! And I saw someone quote one of my chapters on tumblr and I fangirled. You guys are awesome, thank you! :) Okay, so now is when I'll shut up.

***Disclaimer* None, I repeat, ****_none, _****of these characters belong to me. It's just a little fun to get the stories out of my head. These characters belong to their rightful owners and whatnot. As I said, it's all fun. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 7 ~ Theories**

There were three important moments in Amelia Pond's life: when she met the Doctor, when she met Sherlock Holmes and when she married Rory Williams. These are here happiest moments. Never mind that soon after she met the Doctor, he left her almost straight away. Or when she met Sherlock Holmes, he seemed adamant to prove that her Raggedy Doctor wasn't real. Or that Rory Williams keeps on dying and leaving her, unintentionally.

When Amy was growing up, and going to all those psychologists, everyone came to the same conclusion: Amy made up the Raggedy Doctor to deal with her abandonment issues. Because there could never be a 900+ year old alien who saved the world and sometimes took companions along with him. That wasn't possible.

So Amy did what everyone told her to do: she grew up. She stopped arguing with people who said the Doctor wasn't real. She hid inside herself and let everyone believe she was happy. A long time ago, while she was travelling with the Doctor, she realised that there were only two times in her whole life that she was ever truly happy. When she was with her Raggedy Doctor and when she was with Sherlock.

But she was happy now. She had to be.

She lay in her bed, not able to sleep. Next to her Rory snored softly. Earlier that night they had celebrated his return as they normally did when this happened. She couldn't get into it though, so she pretended, doing all the things she normally did. Her mind was elsewhere though. And by elsewhere, she meant down the stairs and to the left, sitting on a couch and thinking, exactly where she left him when she and Rory went upstairs.

Amy got up and pulled some clothes on and then a dressing gown over that. She walked downstairs and paused in the doorway. She looked at Sherlock, taking in his dark, messy curls, his long hands resting underneath his head, his chest rising and falling regularly, calmly. She loved seeing him like this, relaxed, at peace. There was something beautiful about him as he slept.

She was about to walk back to her room and she heard Sherlock's deep, sleepy voice.

"Amelia?" He said. She heard the squeak of the couch as he sat up. She turned around and watched him wipe the sleep from his eyes. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long." Amy shrugged and then walked into the room and sat on the couch next to him. "What's wrong, Sherlock? And don't tell me that you're fine. I've never seen you be so mean to Rory ever."

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I don't think he is who he says he is, Amelia."

"What do you mean? He's my husband." She was a little insulted. If that was true, if Rory wasn't who he said he is, then Amy would know, she would feel something.

"I think you're too close to see it." Sherlock said turning to face Amy. "As soon as you said hello you were in the bedroom without questioning it. Amelia, I heard your screams every night, your cries for him, you want him back, badly, but what if someone's using that against you?"

Amy shook her head. "What if it were me, Sherlock? What if I came back to you from the dead? Would you say the same?"

Sherlock's eyes tightened. Yes she knew. She knew that he still felt something towards her. No one can ever stop caring for their first love.

"I don't…" He started.

"No, Sherlock, you can't say that." Amy demanded. "You wouldn't want me to stay dead if there was a way I could come back. You would do everything in your power to save me." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I would do it for you, Sherlock."

Amy looked down at her hands. Finally succumbing to her feelings, even if it was only for a little while.

Sherlock gently touched her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. _This wasn't like him, at all_. Amy looked up. Her wide green eyes met Sherlock's steady blue ones. _No they couldn't_. Sherlock leaned in slightly, keeping his eyes on Amy. Amy knew that he was waiting on cues from her. They had never done this before. Amy leaned in the rest of the way and pressed her lips gently to his. Her hand moved from her lap and into his hair, twisting his dark curls around her fingers. Sherlock's hand moved to her neck, tilting her head slightly.

Amy shot away from him. She couldn't do it. There was something there, something she hadn't felt with Rory, her _husband_, before.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry." She said, holding her hands to her mouth, her lips still tingling from his kiss.

"I know." Sherlock said as steady and even as ever.

Amy got a little angry. Hadn't he felt it? Why wasn't he as breathless as she was? She took a shaky breath in and calmed herself down.

"We can't…"

"I know." Sherlock looked at Amelia, and she saw the emotions he was hiding in his eyes before he quickly composed himself. "Amelia, you need to think about this."

"About what?" She asked confused.

"Rory isn't Rory."

Amy got mad this time. Was that the only reason he kissed her? So that she be malleable enough to agree with him?

"Yes he is. You're wrong."

She shot off the couch and went back upstairs. She was acting like a five year old, but she didn't care. This was Rory they were talking about. Sherlock had no right to kiss her at all. A little voice in Amy's head reminded her that she kissed him, Amy ignored the voice.

She got undressed again and hopped back into her bed. She woke Rory up urgently by kissing him. He instantly realised what she wanted and he reacted. This was real, _Rory was real_. She was really feeling his smooth skin under her fingertips. She was really feeling his soft lips kissing down her throat, his long fingers trailing down her stomach. This was real. She was feeling it. Rory was real. She knew it.


	9. Blackout

I... Hated this chapter so... Ugh. That's why it took so long to write, sorry. I have chapter preferences and this is not one of them. I had Malia read through it and she said it was good, but... I don't think so. Anyway, enjoy, rate, review, subscribe and all that jazz :)

***Disclaimer* None, I repeat, ****_none, _****of these characters belong to me. It's just a little fun to get the stories out of my head. These characters belong to their rightful owners and whatnot. As I said, it's all fun. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 8 ~ Blackout**

Amy slowly opened her eyes. There was a bright, white light shining down on her and she blinked against it, trying to lift her hand to block it out. She found that she couldn't because they were pinned to her side.

She slowly became aware of her other surroundings. She was on, what felt like, a long metal table. Her arms and legs were held down. And she couldn't move her head at all. Somewhere in the room Clair de Lune played on a continuous loop.

A shadow past over Amy and she strained her eyes to make out what it was. A figure appeared over her, blocking the harsh brightness from the fluorescent light. She couldn't make out any details on the figure. Amy's heart sped up.

"Amelia Pond." A voice, which she had come to fear, said almost tauntingly. "I can see what they all see in you dear."

A hand reached out and stroked the side of her face. It was a careful, loving caress, one meant to soothe, relax. One that Sherlock had given to her the night that they…

"It's a shame that something so beautiful has to end."

The hand disappeared, along with the figure. She felt the platform she was laying on lifting up so that she was upright. She could see details in the room and the figure stepped into the pool of light that surrounded her.

"You're supposed to be dead." Amy accused, trying to put on a brave face even when she felt her body run as cold as ice.

"It's all a magic trick my dear." He chuckled. "But daddy's had enough now. He wants revenge."

"Are you going to kill me?" Amy asked, almost resigned to her new fate.

"Maybe. I haven't decided yet." He smiled sinisterly. "However, I think we should wait until they're all here, don't you?"

"Who?"

"Oh Amelia." He laughed, running another finger down her cheek, moving a lock of hair out of her eyes. "You'll see."

A couple of days earlier

_Everything was dark. Amy couldn't see. She couldn't hear anything. She couldn't taste anything. All of her senses weren't working. It made her uncomfortable. She tried to shift her position but she couldn't move. Her heart started racing, her palms getting sweaty. What was going on?_

_Somewhere, she heard a laugh, but it didn't sound human, or at least, not what she had come to associate with anything human._

_"Little Amelia Pond." A child's voice said. "The girl who waited all night in her garden for her magical Doctor to save her."_

_"No." Amy said, shaking her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block the voice out._

_"The girl who waited so long to dance across the stars." It continued._

_"No. Please stop."_

_"The girl who watched her husband die and die again." Why wouldn't it listen to her? "Amelia Jessica Pond, the girl who has to die."_

Amy woke with a start. A sob caught in her chest. She turned her head and looked at Rory, who was still sound asleep. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them.

"Amelia?" She heard Sherlock's voice through the door.

Amy got up and pulled her dressing gown on. She walked over to the door and opened it; Sherlock took a step back and studied her carefully. She stepped out of her room and closed the door softly behind her.

"We need to get home." She said softly.

She knew Sherlock already knew this. She also knew that they couldn't. Whatever brought them here, whatever was messing with her dreams, it wouldn't let them leave without her dying. She knew this now. And she knew that Sherlock knew it too.

"I know."

Amy stepped towards Sherlock and wrapped her arms around his skinny frame. All of their previous quarrels forgotten.

"Sherlock, I'm scared." She said quietly. She felt like she was eight years old again and Sherlock had found her waiting outside for the Doctor on a freezing winter's night.

"I know." He said simply, his arms around her tightening.

Amy heard the door behind her opening and she jumped away from Sherlock in a heartbeat.

"Amy, what are you doing?" She heard Rory's sleepy voice say behind her.

Amy's back stiffened. She had been taking comfort with a man who was not her husband.

"Nothing," she lied.

There was a few seconds of awkwardness between them as Rory saw through her lie.

"Are you coming back to bed?" He asked.

Amy looked at Sherlock, their eyes met, Rory saw this and he felt the anger in him rising.

"No," Amy said softly, still keeping her eyes on Sherlock.

The door slammed shut behind her; the force of it creating a breeze and ruffling up her hair.

"Amelia," Sherlock said quietly.

"It's fine." She lied.

Sherlock nodded once and stepped aside. "I'm not sleeping." He said, gesturing her into his room.

"Do you ever?" Amy said rhetorically.

Which was apparently lost on Sherlock as he answered; "sometimes."

Amy stepped into his room and looked around uncertainly. She walked over to his bed where the covers were thrown back in a hurry.

"I'm sorry that I woke you." Amy said softly, sitting on the bed and staring out the window at the burnt orange night. "I didn't mean to."

"It's okay."

Sherlock came and sat next to her. She felt the bed dip slightly as he sat down. He intertwined his fingers through hers and Amy breathed out softly.

"Is this where those girls went?" Amy asked after what felt like a lifetime of silence. The question had been bugging her since they got here.

"I think so, yes." Sherlock said, his voice matching hers in volume.

"Where are they then?"

Amy turned her head slowly to look at him. Sherlock turned his head to look at her. They both knew that they weren't going to make it back to Earth, but neither of them said it. Amy looked back out of the window as the sun slowly began to rise. She rested her head on Sherlock shoulder. She listened to his heart beating steadily in time with hers. Her eyes slowly began to droop.

Sherlock felt Amelia's grip on his hand loosen. He turned his head to look at her and smiled softly when he saw her asleep. He gently eased her head onto a pillow and lifted her legs onto the bed, then covered her in a blanket. He leaned over her and kissed her forehead the headed out of the room.

Rory was waiting in the hallway. For Sherlock, obviously.

"She's asleep." Sherlock said fixing his sleeve.

"I know."

Sherlock brushed past Rory and headed down the stairs.

"She's not yours, you know." He said. "She never will be. She'll belong to him for as long as she's alive and you know it."

Sherlock didn't need him to be given a name; he knew who it was already. He ignored Rory's comment and headed outside. The front door closing softly behind him.


	10. Pure hearts stumble

Oh, hello, it's me, again, I hope I'm not annoying you. Anyway, I feel like I need to warn people that there's slight suggestive themes in here. Okay, maybe a little more then slight, um... I don't know how to say it without giving it away, but it's not what you think. Actually it is, but it's not at the same time?

I don't think that makes sense.

ANYWAY I'd like to thank the lovely people who have reviewed and subscribed and done all that wonderful stuff. I want to hug you all every time I get an email notifying me of them. :D

I shall stop talking now. Enjoy!

***Disclaimer* None, I repeat, ****_none, _****of these characters belong to me. It's just a little fun to get the stories out of my head. These characters belong to their rightful owners and whatnot. As I said, it's all fun. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 9 ~ Pure hearts stumble**

Amelia Pond wore a gold "A" on a chain around her neck. She liked apples and puppies. Her favourite colour was blue and when she grew up she wanted to help people. Sherlock knew all this. He knew this like the back of his hand. Yet every time he saw her it was like she was hiding a new surprise for him to crack.

When Amelia Pond was 13 years old, she had her heart broken for the first time. She ran over to Sherlock's house and sat on his bed crying as Sherlock awkwardly had an arm around her shoulders and tried to comfort her. The truth was, though, that he knew this was coming. Teenage relations rarely lasted, he knew that.

At 19 years old, Sherlock was already well on his way to becoming the cold, clinical person that everyone would know. But every time he was around Amelia, something in him changed. He became soft. There was something in her murky green eyes that brightened whenever she figured something out. There was something about the way she chastised him when he did something she didn't like, or the way that she was always so blunt with everyone, not just him.

At 19 years old, Sherlock Holmes fell in love and he didn't realise it.

Mycroft was the first person who told Sherlock the truth.

"Love, Sherlock," he said whilst he flicked the remains of a cigarette away, "is a chemical defect found on the losing side."

Sherlock looked at his older brother, really looked at him.

"If it's where she is then I want to be there." Sherlock said in an even voice.

Mycroft turned his head slightly and took in his younger brother.

"Very well." He replied.

He walked away from Sherlock, chucking his cigarette on the ground and putting his umbrella up.

At 20 years old, Sherlock Holmes realised just how dangerous love could be.

Sherlock Holmes went away to university when he was 18. The only reason he ever came back to Leadworth could be summed into two words. _Amelia Pond_. She slowly began to mean everything to him. He couldn't stop thinking about her. Sherlock passed this off as the fact that she was a mystery that he couldn't solve. His body was just transport, that was all. He wasn't like all of the other guys.

Just transport.

Just Amelia.

Just experiments.

He told himself a lot of 'just's at that age. And he still continues to.

Sherlock Holmes was walking around the deserted streets around Amelia's home. Rory's words bouncing around in his head like hornets. He hated metaphors, usually, but that one fit. There was a low layer of fog covering the ground, making the orange sky seem even more sinister.

The kiss with Amelia had made Sherlock more… _aware_ of certain aspect of his body. But at the time he considered it to be _just_ an experiment. One that he would like to do again, if he had the chance.

He heard footsteps running up to him. Sherlock whipped around and pinned the other person to a fence. He came face to face with Amelia and his eyes couldn't help but dart to her lips, which parted as she tried to regain her breath. It was almost like she knew.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock snapped, but he still didn't let go of her. "I could've hurt you, Amelia."

Amelia pursed her lips and looked at him. "I'm not _that _breakable." She said in her thick Scottish accent.

"Where's Rory?" Sherlock asked.

"Inside the house."

They both turned their heads to look back in the direction of the house. Even though he couldn't see it, and he was pretty sure that whoever may be looking couldn't see them, Sherlock still felt as if he were being watched.

Sherlock turned his head back to Amelia, who was watching him hungrily. He knew what was going to happen next, any idiot would figure it out. But he didn't stop her. Instead his lips met hers halfway.

His hands moved from her wrists to the back of her neck and the other wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer against him as he pushed her harder against the fence. Sherlock didn't know what he was doing; he just did what his body, his transport, wanted. And he was enjoying every second of it.

Amelia's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers entwined in his hair. She pushed her hips into his and Sherlock gasped, different parts of him reacting enthusiastically to her touch.

There was a ghostly laugh and with that Amelia was gone, causing Sherlock to hit his head on the fence. He swore and rubbed the tender spot. What had just happened? Sherlock turned around in the direction of the house. A pair of hands pushed him back against the fence. His eyes met with a pair of hauntingly familiar black ones.

"I have your princess, Sherlock." The thin Irish voice said. "She's trapped in a very high tower, waiting, always waiting."

He laughed and Sherlock lashed out but hit nothing but smoke. That's when he realised.

He covered his mouth and jogged back to the house. He shut the door harshly behind him, causing Amelia, who was in the living room, to jump.

"Sherlock?" She said getting up and walking over to him. "What's wrong with your head?"

Amelia touched the tender bump on his head and he hissed slightly, but his mind was too preoccupied with what happened not two minutes earlier.

"Where's Rory?" He said quickly, trying to distract himself from the heat coming off Amelia's body.

"He went for a walk, why?" She was confused, she should be, Sherlock was behaving erratically. "Sherlock, I think you should sit down…"

"I can't." He said pushing past her and then walking a couple steps up the stairs before going back down and grabbing Amelia's shoulders. "You are not to go outside, got it?"

"What about Rory?" She asked.

"He's dead."

"What?"

Sherlock could see Amelia shutting down. No matter how many times she had lost her husband, it still hurt her.

"How do you know?" She demanded.

"Amelia, he was never alive, he never came back, this is a trick." He said softly. He couldn't bear to see her in pain.

"For who?" She asked, her green eyes flashing with fear.

"For you."


	11. I will not desert you now

I'm not going to try and explain what happened to me since I last updated, it's a really, really long story. However here's a new chapter for you and read at your discretion because there's mild themes. I literally cannot write hetreo love scenes like how. I can't write any love scenes actually...

MOVING ON as always I would love to thank _everyone_ who reads this, whether you leave a review or not. You're all fantastic and I love you.

***Disclaimer* None, I repeat, ****_none, _****of these characters belong to me. It's just a little fun to get the stories out of my head. These characters belong to their rightful owners and whatnot. As I said, it's all fun. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 10 ~ I will not desert you now**

Amy sat down on the couch, her head in her hands. She had lost him again. It shouldn't have hurt her as much as it did. Sherlock watched helplessly as the redhead broke down. He couldn't do anything, just watch as she whispered Rory's name over and over, along with useless apologies. He knew how much she had cared for Rory, loved him. He also knew that her love was the one thing he could never have.

"Amelia," he said in a soft voice, sitting on the table in front of her. "I'm…"

She sniffled and lifted her head up to look at him. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she had never looked more beautiful, he supposed.

"I know, it's fine. I should…" Tears started leaking out of her eyes again.

Sherlock's lips thinned and he nodded. He didn't know what else to do to help her. He got up and started pacing.

"Do you know of anyone that would want to hurt you?" He asked. The thought of someone hating Amelia like that, his Amelia, set him on the edge.

Amy shook her head. She never bothered anyone enough for that. She frowned.

"Hang on, Sherlock, where exactly are we?" She asked, looking over at him.

"Isn't it obvious?" He asked, she just stared at him. "Right, it's not. We're in a simulated environment. None of this is real; it's just a very good replication."

"It's not human, in other words?"

Sherlock shook his head. "It can't be."

Amy nodded. It wasn't human, so whatever it was it wasn't after her.

"The Doctor," she whispered, Sherlock's head snapped up.

"What?" He asked, clearly not hearing her.

"The Doctor," she went on, louder this time. "Think about it Sherlock, I'm not special, I'm just some Scottish girl. The only thing special about me is that I went travelling with the Doctor."

_Amelia_, He thought, but didn't say. Did she really think that she wasn't special? Did she really not see that she was the most puzzling thing he had ever come across? She wasn't just the little girl who waited for a magical being to whisk her away; she was so much more than that. She was the girl that Sherlock would do anything for.

"We've not seen him." Sherlock shook his head.

"Then he's not here and it's a trap for him. I'm a trap…"

Amy's voice trailed off, her eyes wide with her sudden realisation. Rory was there for her, to lure her in. Sherlock was just in the wrong house at the wrong time. This was all meant for her. She was meant to be used in the death of her best friend.

_Again_.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry." She looked up at him.

It couldn't have been Madame Kovarian, could it? Amy killed her. _In a different reality, in a time that never was_, she reminded herself. Who else wanted the Doctor dead? She couldn't think of anyone.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Amelia," he knelt down in front of her, his hand cupping her face. His thumb stroked her cheekbone as his icy blue eyes stared into hers.

She was scared, he could tell. The Doctor had told him what had happened at Demon's Run. Sherlock demanded that the Doctor bring her back to Earth then and there, that it was too dangerous for her to be travelling around with him. But whatever they had done to her was clearly a lot deeper than anyone had originally presumed.

He wanted to make her feel better. It was such a… normal thing to want to do. Something he had never felt before except for her; his Amelia Pond. He didn't know how to make it better. Then he remembered the kiss outside. It wasn't her, he knew that, but he still knew what to do.

Sherlock took a shaky breath in, which surprised him. He leaned forward, Amelia looking up to question what he was doing. Her soft pink lips parted invitingly. She stopped breathing, as did he. For a moment there was complete and utter stillness. And then their lips touched.

It was so much better from the fake Amelia, probably because the girl in front of him was real. She moved closer to him, her hands moving to rest on his shoulders. He took her cue and moved his other hand to rest on her waist, pushing her a little closer towards him still. She made a soft noise, somewhere between a sob and a moan.

He catalogued the sounds she was making as his lips parted and he ran his tongue over her bottom lip. Her lips opened and he deepened the kiss, starting to stand up. She tilted her head back to accommodate his movements.

Sherlock broke the kiss. Her eyes stayed shut and her lips parted.

"Amelia," he said, unsure of what to do.

"Don't stop," she whispered, her eyes opening, the irises almost black. "But not here."

She stood up in front of him and took his hand. Her movements were shaky, her breathing shallow. Sherlock sneakily took her pulse and smirked. She led him up the stairs and into his bedroom, he almost asked why they didn't go into her bedroom and then he realised.

Amelia turned on him as soon as he shut the door. Her lips were on his again, this time more demanding, urgent. Sherlock responded, letting Amy take the lead. He rested his hands on her waist, lifting up her shirt slightly and coming into contact with warm flesh. She made another noise.

He didn't know in the progress of time exactly what happened when, but somehow they were on the bed, his shirt tossed somewhere in the room along with her shirt. Their legs twisted together as Amy rubbed against him, causing Sherlock to moan. His hands mapped her body taking in every dip and curve. He cupped her breasts, squeezing gently. She gasped, breaking the kiss. His lips moved down her jaw.

"Sh-Sherlock," Amelia breathed softly. "You've no idea how long I've waited for this, for you."

Sherlock looked up at her. Her face was bathed in silver moonlight from the window. Her red hair a striking contrast against her skin and white pillows. He didn't say anything; he just kissed her.


End file.
